C Y C L O P E A N

Her face is stern
She is unapproachable
It seems

Her words are terse
She seems disoriented
It is

Her gait that sways
She is inebriated
It seems

Her tongue is mute
She is lip-syncing
It is

Her sound that growls
She is cat-like
It seems

An injured lioness
Bled by nature
She is

Neither waxing or
Waning
She is 
New

The lioness can no more tend to her wounds than to her hunger, and under duress, she cannot distinguish between the two when reflected from the surface of one eye. 

The Eye

Instead, she simultaneously tames and nourishes the beast within through the ritual of breath, wearing her skin for warmth as dry dead fur falls away like a molting snake determined to shine. 

The Beast

This is how physical pain taunts one’s mental constitution into faithful forbearance, and onward to spiritual victory.

The Heron’s Formula
Thoughts behind the poem

The idea of working through pain led me to consider the similarities between that and numbing, and of the differences in vision between the hunter and the hunted. Each tiptoes within a three point game, their hearts beating loudly through anxious chests, each hungering to accomplish what it believes to be trophy: food. Anticipation causes the limbs to shake, and like idiophones, the arrow attunes to the flesh, and the flesh attunes to the scent of perception. Within this vibration, they found themselves locked into an area of the sun, and within the light, heros are born.  

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